


We're crossing these paths from before

by Bablefisk



Series: Knowing what you're good at [1]
Category: Bones (TV), Glee
Genre: But that's kinda the point, Character Death, Homophobic Language, Kurt/Noah best friends, M/M, Serial Killers, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bablefisk/pseuds/Bablefisk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a small path leading towards the hole in the ground. The hole was surrounded by trees and they had to cut some just to get proper access. Also, the hole wasn’t so much a hole as it was a grave. A mass grave actually. So far they had uncovered five bodies; all in a different state of decomposition.</p><p>As the people around them started working on transporting the remains, Booth looked around him and sighed. A mass grave in Lima, Ohio. What the hell?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's start with number 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Murder, Serial killers, nothing too gory. Homophobic slurs.  
> Beta: Many thanks to the lovely jwmelmoth, and as always, all mistakes are my own.  
> Disclaimer: Neither Glee nor Bones is mine, nor do I wish them to be  
> AN: Kurt and Puck are best friends. There might be a flashback on why later, but it doesn’t really matter. You just have to know they’re best friends.  
> AN 2: This is a story that wouldn’t leave my head, and it’s also a late birthday present for soshistorm
> 
> EDIT 2017/08/04 - I have gone through the story and edited a little. It doesn't change the story, but ut cleaned up some of the stuff I wasn't happy with.

There was a small path leading towards the hole in the ground. The hole was surrounded by trees and they had to cut some just to get proper access. Also, the hole wasn’t so much a hole as it was a grave. A mass grave actually. So far they had uncovered six bodies; all in a different state of decomposition.

Bones kneeled down next to the first body, looking it over. “Male, mid-teens. Probably 17 or 18."

She got up and walked along the line of bodies, looking them over and studying their bones.  “They’re all male. Some are slightly more developed than others, from mid teens to mid 40'ies, when they died. Decomp would suggest they've been here at least five years, but we'll have to wait for Hodgins to analyze the soil to be sure.”.”

Turning around, she looked at Booth. “I can’t figure more out here. The ground is too moist and slippery. Can we ship them back to the Jeffersonian? Or is there a lab I can work in close by? “

Both nodded and made a few notes. “Yeah, there’s a lab for you in Columbus, it’s the closest major crime lab.”  

As the people around them started working on transporting the remains, Booth looked around him and sighed. A mass grave in Lima, Ohio. What the hell?

**

A couple of days later, Booth were going slightly stir crazy. They had been sending samples back and forth to the team in DC, but so far they were making no headway in figuring out who these people were. After analyzing the soil, Hodgins had found that the oldest body had been there about ten years, and the newest just about a year shorter.

Bones had started with the oldest of the bodies. “As I said, he was a teenager, 17 or 18. He suffered from blunt force trauma to the back of his head, as is evident by this crack in his skull. As I can't find any other injuries, I would say he bled out. He played sports, but was slightly overweight, judging from the tear and wear of his knees and joints. They would have started to bother him if he had lived to see twenty. Other than that, he has no markers. His has remodeling that suggests his arm broke when he was young, that might help. I’ve tried to use the dental records to identify him, but several of his teeth seemed to have been knocked out in the fight.  We’ll have to see what Angela can come up with. ”

They had sent the remains of the teenager to Angela, as Bones started working on the next one and a day or so later, she called them up.

“Well, sweetie, contestant number one has a name. He was in the missing person’s database. His name is David Karofsky. He was 17 when he disappeared in November of 2010. He lived in Lima, Ohio; I’ll send you the info on him, before I go back to the depressing task of recreating contestant number two.”

**

Booth sighed as he climbed into the car outside the Karofsky house. He had gone to tell his parents what had happened to their son, and try to find something that could take the case forward. They had both been sad, but also seemed relieved that they now knew what had happened to their boy. He had seen a picture of the boy in his hockey gear, a somewhat chubby boy with a smile on his face. The mother had insisted that David was a good boy, but when she went to lay down, the father had confessed that his son had been a bully. His father had known, but not how bad it had been until the school had suspended him for threatening another student’s life. Mr. Karofsky had managed to talk the school board into overturning it by stating the lack of proof, but he confessed that, in the back of his mind, he knew that his son probably did threaten the kid. Three weeks later, David had gone missing.

The name of the other student stood out on Booth’s pad. Kurt Hummel.

**

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Kurt Hummel, son of Elisabeth (teacher, deceased) and Burt Hummel (mechanic and congressman), 28 years old and working for a fashion magazine in New York, looked at them with a raised eyebrow, and Booth gave Bones a look. She shook her head. There was no way the man in front of them had killed and moved the body of David Karofsky, as Bones had determined that the teenager had not been killed where he was found.

“Yes, hi, I’m agent Seeley Booth and this here is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan, we are with the FBI, and we need to have a chat with you.” Booth held out his shield, and the young man looked at it with troubled eyes.

“Is something wrong? Is it my dad?”

“No no, it has nothing to do with your dad; we just want to talk with you.”

“Oh, okay. We can use a conference room over here.” He led them towards a door on the right, and soon he was sitting across from Bones and Booth.

“We have some questions about David Karofsky.”

Hummel frowned in confusion, and Booth waited for the expression to change. It slowly did, into shock.

“Karofsky? Dave Karofsky? Last I knew of him, he ran off or something, but I was already at another school by then. “

“Yes, we know. We heard you had some problems with him?”

He looked at them with an incredulous face before shaking his head. “Look, Karofsky made my sophomore year crap and my junior year hell. I had to move schools because of him, costing my family a heap load of money and forcing me to leave my friends. I can’t say I was upset when he vanished. Now, I would like to know what this is about.”

Booth sighed. He got why the man held a grudge, but they needed to find out if it was enough of a grudge to kill for.

“A few days ago, we found the remains of David Karofsky. He has been dead since he disappeared.“

The young man paled and his eyes grew. “Wow. Now I feel bad for saying that. I had no idea. What did he die of?”

Bones answered, looking at the man as if trying to read him. “He was murdered.”

“Oh, crap. Are you sure?”

Booth nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t… I don’t really know how to react. It all seems so surreal.”

“We need to know why he threatened to kill you. Also, we heard that, a week or so before he was suspended, he came home bruised and beaten. Would you happen to know why?”

Hummel closed his eyes, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “I guess it’s okay to talk about now.” He looked at them again. “Karofsky had, most of the fall, been horrible to me. I won’t go into detail, but I was covering up masses of bruises under several layers of clothing. One day, I just had enough, and I ran after him into the lockers, confronting him about why he was being so horrible, egging him on to just hit me, saying that I would never change. Before I knew what was happening, he kissed me. Just then, one of my best friends walked in and saw me struggling. He jumped on Karofsky and beat him up. Three days later, Karofsky pushed me up against the wall and threatened to kill me if I told anyone. A few days later my dad found out he had threatened me, and got the suspension. A week later it was overturned by the school board, and I switched schools. That’s the whole story.”

Booth forced himself to talk through the empathy for what this kid had probably gone through at school.  “We’re going to need the name of your friend. Also, do you remember what you were doing the day David Karofsky disappeared?”

 

**

Noah Puckerman. He was sitting slouched down in the seat in the interrogation room at the police station in Columbus. He lived in New York too, but had been out here doing some work, apparently, and had offered to come to them when they called. He was dressed simple, jeans and a t-shirt, tattoos peeking out on both sides of the arms. For all that he looked like a delinquent, his record clearly showed some hard work and determination; he’d been in the navy for four years as a paratrooper before he started working as a stunt actor and trainer.

“Mr. Puckerman, thank you for coming in. We wanted to ask you a few questions about David Karofsky.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Karofsky? Seriously? You found him?”

“We found his remains.” Bones helpfully chimed in.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, vanishing like that. Did he kill himself?”

“No, he was murdered. “

“Sadly, that doesn’t surprise me either. He was an ass to a lot of people. I wouldn’t be shocked if someone decided to take revenge.”

“How about you? Did you feel you had something to avenge?”

“Me? You think I killed him? He was an ass, yes, but he wasn’t that much of an ass.”

“Oh? You gave him quite the beating just a few weeks before he was murdered.”

He scoffed at them. “Please, if you had found someone basically sexually harassing your best friend, you would have beaten them too.”

Booth knew he would. Then again, if anyone touched Bones in any way she didn’t want, she would probably beat them up herself.

“Is that all?” The young man was clearly getting impatient, and Booth nodded. “For now. I just need to know where you where the day Karofsky vanished.”

**

“Anything?” Bones looked at him with a hopeful look.

“No. Both their alibies checks out. They were both at a football game a state over, filmed by Hummel himself as well as several parents. It’s impossible to say when exactly Karofsky disappeared during the day, only that he left home that morning, but as Hummel is the only one who got written down for ditching school, and he says he did so to have time to get to the game, we have to presume Karofsky vanished somewhere between last class and when the bus left from the school.”

***

_Puck shoved Karofsky’s head against the asphalt again. He was seriously pissed that the lump of lard had chased his best friend out of school, and he could finally take out his frustration.  As he let go of the jacket he was holding him up with, the other boy fell limp to the ground, and Puck suddenly realized that his chest wasn’t moving. He put his hand on the other boy’s throat and cursed when he didn’t find a pulse. The blood was already pooling from a head wound that was obviously worse than Puck had thought._

_“Fuck. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”_

_“Noah?” Puck had sworn they were alone behind here, and he turned around in a panic, seeing Kurt there with his hands over his mouth, his eyes jumping between the dead teenager on the ground and the live one in front of him._

_“Uhm, it.. It was accident, seriously, I didn’t mean to…”_

_Kurt broke him off with a sigh, and crossed his arms in front of his chest._

_“Noah, what the fuck? Why did you have to kill him here? Now we have to move him, and come up with alibies, and ugh. Couldn’t you at least have fought him in the woods somewhere?”_

_Puck gaped for a moment or so before his lips spread into a grin. A small smile lay round Kurt’s lips, and Puck suddenly remembered why they were best friends._

_“Wanna help me move a body?”_

_“Sure, why not.” Kurt shook his head in amusement._

_A couple of hours later, they looked down at the body lying in the hole they had dug in front of them. They had hijacked Azimio’s car, and used that to roll the body into before driving out to an area in the woods that they used to hang out in when they were kids. School was out, but as the whole football team was going away to a game, Azimio would never notice it, and the car would be in its place when he came back._

_Kurt had ditched the last class at Dalton to come see the game, but as the bus would have left by now, they drove back to the school, took Kurt’s car and drove after the rest of the team. They would both be present at the game, so if anyone ever found the body, their alibies would be good._


	2. Number 2 might be surprising

 

Bones looked over the body lying on her table. “He is his teens as well, 16 or 17 probably.”

 

“What?” Booth looked down at the bones in front of him. “Are you sure? He looks younger than that.”

 

“Yes, I actually double checked, as his height would suggest he was younger, but he seems to simply be... challenged in the height department. I'm running the dental records now. We should find a hit; judging by both his teeth and bones, he grew up privileged, and his dentals should be in the system. As for how he died, he was strangled in some manner, probably with a wire of some kind.”

 

“Could he and Karofsky have been killed by the same person?”

 

“Yes, in terms of height and strength they could.”

 

Just as she finished talking, the computer made a noise, and she walked over to it. “We have a match. His name was Blaine Anderson.”

 

**

Booth put on a smile as the door to the Anderson home opened. At the door was a tall man, brown hair and clean shaven, pale face. Booth would call him handsome, if it hadn't been for the cold eyes. Mr. Anderson(J.D.), Booth presumed.

 

“Mr. Anderson?”

 

“Yes?” the man's voice was hard and cold.

 

“I am special agent Booth from the FBI. I need to have a word with you, if that's okay.” He held up his badge, and the man held it close, studying it for a few seconds before he opened the door wider.

 

“Come in.”

 

Booth was shown into a living room, and a minute or so later, Mr. Anderson came back with whom Booth assumed was Mrs. Anderson. She was short, with her black, curly hair in a simple top knot. Booth had seen pictures of Blaine Anderson, and instantly knew where he got his looks from.

 

The couple sat down, and after Booth had introduced himself to the woman, he took a deep breath.

 

“Mrs. And Mr. Anderson, we've found your son, Blaine.”

 

The small woman gasped in surprise but the man stayed cold and silent.

 

“I'm sorry to tell you this, but when he disappeared approximately ten years ago, he was murdered.”

 

The woman hid her face in her hands, and the man, not so cold anymore, looked like he was about to explode.

 

“I told him. I told him to stay away from those people, from that boy, but he wouldn't listen. He never listened.”

 

“Are you saying you think someone your son used to hang out with got him murdered?”

 

Mrs. Anderson looked up with wild eyes and shook her head almost violently. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Mr. Anderson exploded out with a flood of words.

 

“I don't think that, I know! Hanging around that kind of people, pretending to be one of them. That stupid boy dragged my son down, made him abandon his life, and when Blaine vanished, had the fucking gall to want to join the search.”

 

“What kind of people? Who is this boy, do you remember his name?”

 

“Fags, that's what!” The man spit it out, and Booth bit his lip, wishing he could knock some sense into the man. “And of course I remember his name, the little fag. Kurt Hummel.”

 

**

 

Kurt Hummel. Again. He had a solid alibi for the last murder, and Lima wasn't exactly the biggest place in the world, but was it even possible this was a coincident?  
  


Booth had once again flown out to New York, and was waiting in the same room they had talked last. Bones had stayed behind, working on the rest of the victims, trying to find anything that could find them a killer.

 

“Agent Booth, back again for more I see.” Kurt Hummel sauntered into the room, shaking his hand before sitting down across from him.

 

“What can I help you with today?” He crossed his leg over each other and leaned back, his hands resting on his knees.

 

“I don't know if you pay attention to things back in Ohio, but you might be aware that a mass grave was found in Lima.”

 

“Yes, I had heard, actually. But what has that got to do with me?”

 

“Karofsky was one of the victims in said mass grave, and we have just found the identity of a second. It's Blaine Anderson.”

 

The young man in front of him visibly paled, and as he hid his face in his hands, Booth could hear him mutter “Oh my god” over and over.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Hummel looked up again, the distress on his face a very different reaction to his almost blasé indifference towards Karofsky.

 

“I, uhm... I guess I should have known when he disappeared, but I always hoped he had just found a new place to stay and didn’t tell anyone. I... was, was he murdered too?”

 

“Yes, he was.”

 

The other man let out a deep sigh, and discreetly wiped away a few tears. “This is insane.” He shook his head.

 

“I understand that you and Blaine Anderson knew each other well?”

 

“Yes, we were friends, then dated for a while, but we had broken up when he disappeared. I met Blaine when I changed schools. We hit it off pretty much right away.”

 

“I had a talk with his parents, his father was...”

 

“Oh, I can imagine that was a pleasant conversation.” A bitter laugh followed the sarcastic words. “Mr. Anderson never accepted that Blaine was gay. That’s why I assumed Blaine had just had enough one day and ran off. His father was in complete denial. He once walked in on me and Blaine cuddling, and he about blew a gasket. His father hated me, with a passion, but Blaine never was one to listen to others.”

 

“Can I ask why the two of you broke up?”

 

“Blaine was... used to getting his own way. As a friend, he was good, and he was exactly what I needed when I switched schools, but as a boyfriend he just... He had a tendency to be very controlling of what I did and said, and he was so used to getting his way that when he didn't, he got either extremely mad or demeaning. I couldn't live like that, and after a while got the courage to end it.”

 

Booth nodded, writing down some things in his pad. “Do you remember where you were the night he disappeared?”

 

“What was the day again? It was a Friday, wasn't it?”

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

“Yes, If I remember correctly, me and another friend was at a gay bar, dancing. We usually went there, the three of us, but Blaine was mad at me, so he went home.”

 

“Does this other friend have a name?”

 

A slightly wary look crossed the young man’s face, and he grimaced a little.  “Sebastian Smythe. Full disclosure, he is also my fiancé.”

 

**

“Well, his story checks out. I talked to Mr. Smythe, who confirms where they were, but being his fiancé and all, he could be making that up. I did, however, dig up some more of their school friends, and they all say the three of them often went out dancing together on Fridays. I also checked with the school, and Anderson, Smythe and Hummel were all signed out, Smythe and Hummel both showing up on Sunday at different times.”

 

Booth drew a hand over his face. “We have nothing to connect this to Hummel, and as far as I can tell, he didn't have a reason either.”

 

“He couldn't have done it.”

 

Booth looked over at Bones with a raised eyebrow.

 

“He is too short; the damage suggest someone of 6”2, Hummel now is what?”

 

“5”10, 11 maybe.”

 

“Exactly, and he was probably a little shorter ten years ago. So he couldn't have done it. He could have been standing on something, but his balance would be all off, and it is very unlikely he would have managed to gather all the strength he needed. ”

 

**

_Kurt swore as the sting of the alcohol burned his lip. He looked like he had been in a fight, and was trying to clean the wounds and dress them before his dad noticed._

_He, Sebastian and Blaine had been at Scandals, Sebastian getting his flirt on with a new boy. Kurt had decided to take an early night, and Blaine had asked him to drop him off at home._

_When they had gotten to the car, Blaine had suddenly gotten handsy, and before Kurt knew what was going on, he was being pushed into the back seat of his car, clumsy hands pawing at his fly. He desperately tried to push Blaine away, but the shorter boy was basically sitting on him, and wouldn't budge. He kept mumbling about how Kurt owed him this for teasing him all the time, and never letting him do this while they were dating._

_Kurt had fought like a caged animal, and finally managed to free himself when Blaine tried to pull down Kurt’s pants. He kicked him out, locked the doors, and climbed into the front seat. He took off from the parking lot without even looking behind him._

_Now he was home, trying to calm down both the tears and the rage. He still couldn't believe that it actually happened. He was so mad at Blaine that he couldn't even think straight._

_There was a soft knock on the front door, and Kurt peered through the window to see Sebastian standing there. As he opened, the young man started to talk in quiet tones. “Hey, I heard something from Timothy about a fight, and saw Blaine...” he tapered off as he saw Kurt, his split lip, a bruise forming around the right eye, his hair going everywhere, his clothes torn. “Who the fuck did this to you?”_

_“Bas... “_

_“No, I want a name. Was it Blaine? It was Blaine, wasn't it?”_

_Kurt stayed silent, and that was answer enough._

_“I'm going to kill him!” Sebastian clenched his fists and jaw, taking a few deep breaths._

_A few hours later, Sebastian looked at the short boy dead at his feet, an old piano string hanging from one of his gloved hands. No one hurt Kurt like that. No one._

_Just as he was about to try and figure out what to do with the body, he got a message from an unknown number._

**_I have a place we can take the trash. Remember where we got those 40 pieces of wood, 44.27 dollars total? You thought the guy was 84, he had a kid that was 6, turns out he was really 54. Maybe bring a shovel, the garbage is kind of disgusting. Also, thanks._ **

_Sebastian looked at the message for a minute before he got it, and he smiled, pocketing the phone._

_A few hours later, he sent a text back to the number._

_Thanks, babe. Ran into someone you might know. Not too hot - kind of smelly, looked like a zombie. Sound familiar?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text is basically coordinates, showing him where the grave is. I have no knowledge of the forest in Lima, so they are coordinates to Lima itself, 40°44′27″N 84°6′54″W


	3. Interlude 1: Let's take a breather

Rachel bounced on her feet outside the door as she rang the bell. The house was a familiar one, though she hadn’t been there a lot. It was big and impersonal and fit the people currently living in it perfectly. She looked around as she waited for the door to open. She wore a skirt that reached about midways on her naked thighs, and a sweater that clung to the little curve she had.

Just as she thought she was out of luck and no one was home, the door finally opened. The man in front of her was about Kurt’s height, blond and looked at her with dark eyes. “Yes?”

She smiled her star smile at him and bounced a little again, her skirt bouncing with her and twirling a little around her legs. “Hi! I’m looking for Quinn?”

The gaze grew darker, and the man almost spat out. “She doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Really? Oh, shoot, I really needed to talk with her. Do you know where she is?”

“No.” The answer was short and gruff.

Rachel continued twirling and bouncing in place, knowing it made her look years younger. “Oh, okay.” Suddenly she tripped over her own legs and bumped right into the man. “Oh, I am so sorry! I am such a klutz, I’m really sorry!”

He gave her a hand and grumbled an answer, seconds later closing the door in her face.

As she walked down the driveway, she smiled a little to herself. A minute or so later, she climbed into a car. Kurt looked over at her with raised eyebrows. “Did you get it done?”

She gave him a smile and held up the small syringe. When Mr. Fabray died some hours later of a heart attack, no one would even think to connect it to them.


	4. Number three is not in the right order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Murder, Serial killers, nothing too gory  
> AN: This got a little more extreme than intended. If violence trigger you, just skip to the end when you come to the part in italics.

“Hmm.” Temperance lifted up one the bones from the corpse in front of her, and after trying to wait her out, Booth broke in.

“What?”

“I just wanted to double checking something.” She but the bone down again and looked at him. "And I was right."

She circled around the body, stopping next to Booth. 

“The third victim is male, as the others, though he is a few years older, around 19. What I was looking at is the splintering of the bones. This body was frozen before he was dumped in the grave, which makes it impossible to say when he was murdered.

He's of average height, I can see several signs of him being an athlete, perhaps a dancer. He seemed to have lived very healthy. Other than that, I can't really tell you much about him. I can't even tell for sure what murdered him, but what I can say is that he was tortured before he was killed. There are certain cuts in his bones that suggests that someone surgically removed his larynx. His nails were also pulled out. He might have bled to death, it's impossible to say.”

“He was tortured?” Bones simply nodded. “It's an escalation, but it seems a bit strange, why go for the larynx?”  
  
“I don't know, but the larynx basically does two things; it gives us a voice and prevents foreign objects from entering the lungs.”

“So the point here would probably be that he lost his voice?”

“Though I can't say for certain, that would seem most logical.”

**

“His name is Jessie St. James. He was reported missing a few months before Karofsky. He was in his schools glee group, called Vocal Adrenaline. There is something odd with his records, it almost seems like he changed school to McKinley high for a couple of months, then changed back to his own school, Carmel high, but there's a note here about that just being a mix up. He vanished a few weeks after said mix up.”

**

Jessie St. James' parents might have been two of the most ruthless, cold parents Booth ever had the displeasure of meeting. They didn't seem to care much about the fact that their son had been found, as they had “given up on that racehorse ten years ago”.  He hadn't even managed to get to the torture part before he had up and left.

He did, however, get a few names, one of which was Rachel Berry. She had, apparently, been his girlfriend for a few months. The same few months “The mixup” happened. When they did a search on her, they found out that not only had she attended the school that the mixup stated that Jessie attended, but it was the same school as Hummel, Karofsky and Puckerman had attended. This case either had a lot of strange coincidences, or something was going on in that school.

Rachel Berry lived in New York, so on the last trip to talk to Hummel, Booth also made an appointment with her.

**

Rachel Berry was smiling politely up at him from where she was sitting in the changing rooms. The info they had on her said she was a musical actress, as well as a voice coach and a choir director. She was a pretty woman, though a tad plain, and looked like many other aspiring actresses Booth had met.

“Ms. Berry? Hi, I'm Special agent Booth, we spoke on the phone?”

“Yes, I am, though it's actually Berry-Fabray. I just got married a couple of weeks ago, and changed my name just a few days ago, so that's why you're not updated. Have a seat.”

“Oh, okay, great. Congratulations.”

Booth sat down on one of the other rolling stools standing along the walls, and looked at the woman again. She was still smiling, and seemed  to be one of those perpetually preppy people.

“Ms. Berry-Fabray, do you recall in high school dating a Jesse St. James?”

The smile finally fell from her face as she looked at him in shock and surprise.

“Uhm... yes, of course I remember. Why?

“Were you aware that Mr. St. James went missing almost ten years ago?”

“Yes, of course, the police talked to me back then as well. What's going on?”

“We just found him, Ms. Berry-Fabray. Dead. Murdered actually, about the same time he disappeared. He also had signs of being tortured.”

Her eyes had grown huge as he talked, and as he finished, she put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, what, what's... I can't...” Suddenly she was up, and before Booth could even react, she had slipped into a door just next to them, and he could hear retching noises. He waited where he was, and when she came out again, he offered her a piece of gum.

“Thanks. Jessie and I... we dated, for a while. Or he strung me along for a while. The whole thing was insane. I'm guessing you want to know about it?”

He nodded, and she started talking. It might have been one of the strangest stories Booth had ever heard, with kids spying for teachers and egg bombs and by the end of it, he wasn't quite sure if he believed her or not. Before he finished up, he asked her a few other questions.

“I was wondering if you know a Kurt Hummel?”

“Oh, yes. We were in the same Glee club at school while he was there, and we lived together in New York for a year when we started studying here, before we both moved in with our significant others. We are still good friends. Why?”

“Nothing of importance. What about Noah Puckerman?”

“Also same Glee club, we were friends a bit on and off through school. I don't really stay in contact with him, but I see him here and there, usually when his work takes him to New York. And even then it's mostly Kurt dragging me along to meet him.”

“Did you know a David Karofsky?”

She snorted. “Can't say I knew him. I knew perfectly well who he was, as he bullied me pretty badly, though Kurt had it a lot rougher than I did.”

“Thanks for your cooperation, that's all for now.”

**

“Rachel Berry-Fabray seems to be telling the truth about the spy games in her high school, I talked to Kurt Hummel, Noah Puckerman and the other part of the marriage, Quinn Berry-Fabray, and they all tell the same story. We are starting to see a pattern here. All three were assholes to someone else. Karofsky was a bully, I know Anderson did something to Hummel, I could read it in both him and Smythe, but they wouldn't tell me what, and St. James tricked Berry and ended it with her humiliation.” Booth walked around the small room they had as an office in Columbus. Bones was leaning on the desk, and the laptop was open next to her, the rest of the team on skype from Washington.

“Could it be an Angel of Death of sorts who sees this and wants to kill all evil-doers?” Hodgins broke off his monologue.

“Could be. I would almost believe the kills are escalating, except as St. James had been frozen, there really is no way of telling when he was killed. He could just as well have been the first. We're going to have to wait until we find out who the rest are, and see if they tell us anything more.”

 

_**_

_“Jesse. Hi.” Quinn looked down at the boy tied to the chair as he woke up. She had knocked him out and dragged him here herself, and though she would have loved to have heard his screams as she removed it, she had cut out his larynx before he woke up from the drugs. She would just have to find other ways to hurt him._

_He looked up at her, first in confusion, but as he tried to speak, the look turned panicky. Trying to speak should not only hurt him rather badly, but there also wouldn't be any voice coming out. He started thrashing, and she could see him panicking, the fear growing._

_“Jesse, Jessie, Jessie. You see, you took something that belongs to me and hurt it.”_

_He was still panicking, but the confusion had come back._

_“Oh, you don't know what I mean? Rachel Berry. She doesn't quite know it yet, and it's a bit early, but she is mine. And it was okay that she dated you when that was her choice, but when you tricked her and hurt her... well, you have hurt something I consider mine. And I protect what is mine. Besides, you hurt my friends as well, and that is just not okay.”_

_She let her fingernails run over his naked torso; she had cut away the shirt to get to the throat. Then she turned around and picked up the pliers from the table behind her, and  took the pliers to one of his fingernails. They were short, so she had to use both hands to get a proper grip, and she slowly started to pull on the nail. His breathing seemed to go even faster, and as she pulled it out, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Quinn smiled as she looked down at him. She had a fun night in store._

_**_

_Crap. She had been thrown out of the house, and in her hurry she had forgotten all about the corpse in the freezer. The corpse she really had intended to do something about by now, but she just couldn't seem to find the time. Then her father died of a heart attack before he could find anything, and now, several long months later, they were selling the house. She had too do something, now._

_But she couldn't. There was a reason he had only made it to the freezer in the old groundskeepers house. She had bought it and had it delivered three days before killing Jessie, so her parents had no idea it was there, and they didn't use the house at all. It was in the cellar, just in case, but now the real-estate people were going to walk through all of it ._

_So she started thinking. Who in her life could she ask help her move a body? Probably Santana, though she might hold it over her until the end of time. Kurt, probably, and Noah. She knew Kurt had the strength to do it, and out of the three, he was most likely the one who might have an idea on where she could dump it. Besides, when Karofsky had disappeared, she had been a little suspicious, and when Anderson vanished just as Kurt had a new set of bruises, she was pretty sure something was confirmed, just not what._

_In the end, she approached Kurt on one of their shopping trips in Columbus, looking through a rack of clothes._

_“So, am I right in thinking that you might know somewhere to take the trash?”_

_He stopped on the other side of the rack and looked at her for some long seconds before giving her a smile. “I might, yes.”_

_She smiled when she saw the rotting corpses in the dirt in front of her._ _She knew it._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinn tortures and kills Jessie, freezes him, and then gets Kurt help in dumping him in the mass grave.


	5. Number four is equally matched

                                               

“So, what killed this one? And who is he?” Booth stood ready with his pad and pen, looking down at the body on the table. He was getting sick of Ohio and sick of this case, he just wanted home.

 

“I can't say for sure what killed him, his bones don't carry any marks that would tell me that. However, I can tell you something that might help.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“I found certain marks on the bones of his pelvis that would suggest... well, I'm fairly certain someone cut off his genitals.”

 

Booth stopped in his writing and looked up at her. “What?”

 

“There are clear marks that would suggest that, yes. Whatever tool was used to do this could also have been used to kill him, though that is pure speculation.”

 

“Yeah, I think we will assume that. Is it the same weapon used on St. James?”

 

“No, St. James had several small notches, like from the tip of a knife. This body has longer marks, like a razorblade or something.

 

“This is strange. This guy escalated with the last victim, torturing them. But now, this. Yes, if he was alive, it's torture, but this is way too centralized to be torture in that way. Cutting off his dick is way too personal.” He sighed and ran a hand over his scalp. “Do we know who he is?”

 

Bones picked up the folder at the desk next to her. “Yes, his name was Artie Abrams and he was a paraplegic. He went to school with and was a part of the same glee club as Hummel, Puckerman and both Berry-Fabreys.”

 

“This serial killer is either one of them or he is obsessed with them. We have to check out the alibis to all the people that were a part of this club and interview them. The people closest clearly didn't do it, as they all have alibis for all the murders.”

 

**

Booth sighed as thought through the meeting he just had. Meeting Artie Abrams parents had been all kinds of horrible. They were extremely upset, he was their only child, and after the accident that rendered their son a paraplegic, they had been unable to have more children. Though they probably already knew what had happened to their son, they still broke down in hysteric tears, and Booth had to console both of them before he could try and get some answers. That conversation had not been nice.

 

“ _I know this is hard, but I need to ask if your son was... had he hurt anyone recently? Not necessarily physically, but emotionally? Or did he have any enemies?”_

 

_The mother, Nancy, shook her head a little. “No, not really. He was teased at school, him and one of his friends especially, Kurt Hummel. Things had gotten a lot better though, and he had gotten several new friends. He had a couple of girlfriends, though it had just ended with the girl he was with when he disappeared. Brittany something, I don't remember. He didn't tell us why it ended, but he was really mad and upset about it.”_

 

It was Brittany Pierce they were talking about, and Booth finally managed to find her, dancing with a company currently in California. He decided to do an interview over phone chat first, and got a hold of her long enough to set it up with a police station where she was.

 

When the camera turned on, there was a blond, smiling girl in front of him. “Brittany Pierce?”

 

“Yes, that's me.” She bounced a little in her seat.

 

The interview that followed was one of the most confusing Booth had ever had, and he found himself wondering if the girl was missing a few screws or if she was just really that good at pretending. In the end he found out that she had broken up with Artie because he called her stupid, something many other people had done, but not people she cared about. The night he had disappeared, Brittany herself had had a sleepover with Kurt Hummel, Santana Lopez and Tina Cohen-Chang, a standing date twice a month.

 

As with all the other victims, they interviewed the other people around them, and most of his schoolmates said the same about him; could be a bit of a douchebag at times, but overall nice. Several of the girls mentioned that he was rather misogynistic as well, but that was all.

 

**

_She circled around the steel table she had him strapped on. He was still unconscious from the drugs she had slipped him. The anger boiled in her as she sneered at him. She knew she was probably overreacting a little, but this was Brittany and that was Wheels, and that was just a combination that was not good for her._

 

_She had stripped him of all his clothes and burned them. He wasn't gonna use them again, and she didn't want anything left over to tie her to this. She had left his glasses, though. She wanted him to clearly see what she was doing to him._

 

_He starting waking up and she leaned over him. “Waky, waky, wheels.” The gag made it impossible for him to answer anything but mumbles and she grinned at him._

 

“ _You really screwed up this time. I mean, you've always been a bit of an ass, misogynistic and narrow minded, but you just went too far. Hurting Brittany? Yeah, not a good idea.”_

 

_A few hours later, Santana stripped out of the plastic gear she had been wearing and threw it in the bag with the plastic covering from the room. She had seen Dexter, knew what not to do, but she didn't have a boat to use and dump the body. However, she did have a very good friend that she knew was a lot more twisted than he let on. After a good scrub in the shower, she dialed the number._

 

“ _Hey, where have you been taking out the spare parts?”_


	6. Number five is slightly left-sided

                                               

“We're still waiting for some tests from victim number five, so let's skip ahead to victim number six. ” Booth followed Bones as she headed to the table with the body. He stopped when he noticed.

 

“That's a hole in his head.”

 

“Yeah, I think we can say that he died of a gunshot.”

 

Booth sighed in irritation. This serial killer was getting on his nerves. “Why can't he just stick to one thing, what is up with this mix-match of methods?”

 

“There is actually something in common with one of the other victims. His groin was... shot.”

 

“What? He was shot in the dick?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I can tell you why.” Angela's voice came through the video chat. She held up a picture of a man in his forties. “Meet Ted Sanders. He was a teacher at Crawford Country Day, an all-girls school in Westerville. He was accused of assault and rape by three different girls in the school, which would explain the dick shooting. The asshole had some connections and got off with a slap on his wrist and was moved to teach at the brother school of Crawford Country, which is Dalton Academy, where our favorite suspect-not-suspect, his fiancée and the first victim all attended.”

 

Booth sighed again. This fucking case.

 

**

 

The headmaster and administration at Crawford and Dalton were equally unwilling to talk, which meant he got almost nothing, though he did get some shamed looks when he accused them of protecting a rapist. The little information was nothing he didn't have before, names of the girls that accused him and their families mostly.

 

They had checked the girls’ backgrounds before they contacted them, and found out that the day Mr. Sanders vanished, all three had been at a Cheerleading competition on the other side of the country, and all three caught on tape. He did an interview with each of them, but that went just about as expected; they weren't exactly sad the man was dead, and yes, of course they knew people that would want to harm him.

What they also had in common, however, were brothers. They each had at least one brother attending Dalton at the time of the disappearance, four boys in all. Melanie's older brother was currently serving in the army, so Booth was reluctant to call him in for anything as shaky as this. A phone interview would do in a stretch. He pulled in Christi's two brothers for an interview each, though he had his doubts. They didn't seem to know the right side up on a gun, and when they presented him with their alibis, one on a date with his current wife and the other studying with half his class, he sent off one of the other Agents to double check while he called in the last man, Sara Clarington's brother.

 

His name was Hunter Clarington, and it seemed a good fit on paper. A boy in military school, perhaps with anger issues and a problem with authority. He prepared himself for a fistfight, but the man that walked into the conference room was calm and collected, smiling politely. The conversation that followed was just as calm and collected as the man, and when he walked out of the room, Booth wanted to tear his hair out.

 

**

“Clarington has got the skill and the guts to do it, but what about the others? He was at military school half way across the country when most of them were killed, there is no way he could have killed them all. Even if his alibi doesn't hold up, we would have to explain the rest of the murders as well.”

 

**

 

_Hunter followed the man as he drove away from Dalton, being careful not to be seen. When the man parked the car outside a big house in a suburban neighborhood, the young man parked a couple of houses down and quickly picked the lock to the front door, where he had heard the click only seconds before. He silently snuck in behind the man, and before he could utter a word, covered his mouth with his hand. Some quick work later, and the man’s mouth was covered by a piece of tape, his hands and feet bound._

 

_He dragged the squirming and struggling man into the basement. Then he went back up and put the iPod in the docking station, letting it start a random play of the songs. Hunter had been by the house a couple of times and knew that this was something Sanders did every day, so no one would be surprised by the noise._

 

_He grabbed the duffel bag he had taken inside and went down to the basement again. Sanders had clearly tried to get free, lying a meter or so further away from the stairs, but the bindings still held firm._

 

_Hunter pulled out the plastic sheet and laid it down on the floor. The man’s eyes grew even wider at this, and where he was struggling before, he started panicking now. Hunter completely ignored him, taped down the sheet and pulled the man on top of it. It was big enough for him to squirm as much as he wanted and still be on it._

 

_When the teenager took out the gun from the bag and started slowly screwing on a silencer, the man really flipped out. His panicked sounds became hysterical screams and whines behind the tape, and in his desperate attempts to get away from Hunter, he just tangled himself more into the plastic._

 

_The music changed and they could clearly hear the heavy bass, even down in the basement. Hunter pointed the gun at the man's head, and then finally broke the silence._

 

“ _This is for my sister.” Then he shifted the gun, and shot his dick. The sound of the gunshot was indistinguishable from the heavy bass still beating upstairs._

 

_The hysterical, muffled screams became muffled screams of pain, and Hunter pulled up a chair and sat down. He didn't want the man to die too early._

 

_When the man finally fainted in a combination of pain and blood loss, another quiet pop took the man’s life, unheard by anyone except the gunman._

 

_A few hours later, Hunter raised his eyebrows at the row of half rotting bodies. “Seriously?”_

 

_Sebastian gave him half a smile. “Hey, only one of them is mine.”_

 

 


	7. Number six shouldn't be a surprise

“Okay, to the last victim, number five. His bones show nothing. No sign of what happened to him. No marks, no nicks, no nothing. He was between 35 and 40 years when he died, and just about 6 feet tall. He has been dead probably a year or so less than Karofsky. Most of the others show... something, but he is just...”

 

Bones shrugged a little and sighed, and Booth sighed with her. “Okay, I'll run a general search and see if someone in that age went missing around that time.”

 

**

“William Michael Schuester, he was a teacher at McKinley high, and, as this gets even more strange, the teacher in charge of New Directions, the glee club where half our suspects and victims came from. I'll head out to the school, again, and see if I can find someone who knew him.”

 

**

“Agent Booth? You wanted to speak with me?”

 

The petit woman with the squeaky voice in front of him shook his hand a little carefully, and his eyebrows raised a little as she went straight to the jar of antibac standing on her desk afterwards.

 

“Yes, thank you for meeting with me; I wanted to ask you about William Schuester.”

 

She looked at him in surprise. “Oh, he has been gone for nine years soon, I don't know anything more than that.”

“Have you caught the news about the mass grave right outside Lima? He is one of the victims we found in it.”

 

Her big eyes grew even bigger. “Oh my. That's horrible.” It seemed just the thought of it made her feel dirty, and she rubbed her hands in some more antibac. “But I don't really, uhm, I don't... what does that have to do with me?”

 

“Well, we understood that you were dating him, and we wanted to know if you might know of someone who might want to harm him.”

 

“Well... I don't want to speak ill of the dead...”

 

“It could help us find his killer.”

_**_

Booth walked out of the building, shaking his head. This school was insane. He hadn't gotten much from the counselor, other than the fact that Schuester wasn't exactly the nicest person in the world. He had, however, gotten plenty from the track-suited lady that met him in the hall. Apparently, William Schuester had planted drugs on a student to blackmail him into joining the glee club, had treated not only his wife, but also the couple of girlfriends he had had rather badly. From what Booth could understand of what she said, he had also lusted after a couple of the girls in the glee club. He had quite obviously used the glee club several times to reach his own goals, and had been misogynistic and homophobic. In general, not particularly nice. None of it, unfortunately, led to a killer. There had been nothing particular that happened when he disappeared, and Booth had yet another dead end.

_**_

_William woke up tied to a chair, looking around himself in confusion. He didn't recognize the room, nor could he remember how he had come to be here. He was... he was helping out Rachel, that was it, at the school. The last he could remember was watching intently as the young girl had twirled and her skirt swirled around her, showing her upper thighs and part of her panties. As long as he didn't touch, he could look all he wanted._

_But he was quite clearly not at school anymore, or at least not any part that he recognized. As he looked around in the darkness, he shifted his feet, and the big sheet of plastic beneath him crinkled. When he realized what it was, he really started to panic. Why would anyone have put that there?_

_Suddenly he heard a creaking noise, and he realized it was a door opening in front of him. Two dark shadows came closer, and when he could finally make out the familiar faces, he sighed in relief._

_“Girls, you have to help me. I don't know what is going on, but we need to get out of here. Where are we?”_

_“Oh, we're at school, Mr. Schuester. In the basement.” The two girls had stopped in front of him, Quinn, on his left, the one who had answered._

_“What are you waiting for? Help me get out of this!” He struggled with the restraints and another sort of panic started building when the girls continued to act completely relaxed. Quinn just looked down at him with 'unimpressed' written all over her face, and Santana was smirking, buffing her nails on her shirt. Both were in their cheerleading clothes._

_“Well, we could have gotten started, but we figured we wanted this to be special. You see, every time you have been out of line, we have let it go, but you just took it too far this time. So we thought that since you really had it coming, we wanted to make it really good. So we're waiting for one more.”_

_William was extremely confused, but before he could say anything, he could hear the creaking of the door again, and another person approaching them. As she stopped between and just slightly behind the two others, his eyes grew in shock._

_“Rachel?” She was twirling in place and holding a strange flower in her hand, giggling and holding it up to her face._

_“We figured that even better than us doing it would be her, your little favorite, doing it.” Santana's smirk had grown to a sharp grin._

_Rachel sighed a little. “You really did take it too far this time. I wish you hadn't. Or, actually, no, I was glad you did. You kinda have it coming.”_

_He shook his head in confusion; what was going on?_

_“Do you know what this is, Mr. Schuester?” Rachel held the flower out to him and he shook his head. “Hemlock. It doesn't look like much, but it really is something else.” She put the flower in her hair, and stuck her hand in the pocket of her skirt, fishing out a medicine bottle, shaking it a little. The liquid splashed inside. She soon picked up the needle she had in the other pocket and stuck the needle in the bottle, starting to fill it up._

_“You see, Hemlock is poisonous. And when you take all the good, dangerous stuff from the flower and turn it into liquid form; well, it looks something like this.” She held up the now filled needle, before putting the bottle back in her pocket._

_Then she knelt next to him and quickly, despite his struggles, found the blood vessel in his wrist. She slowly inserted the needle and then the poison._

_She looked up at him. “Oh, don't worry, it will only paralyze you. You will stay alive long enough to get to know why we're doing this, relax.”_

_She stood up again and took her place between the two girls as Quinn started to talk. “See, Mr. Schuester, you have been misogynistic, homophobic and in general an ass. We know you look. We have always known you look. But as long as you didn't touch, we left you alone.”_

_“And you have been an ass to Kurt in particular the last few years, but we reached the end of our rope now. Telling him that he would have to dress up in drag to get a solo? What is wrong with you? No one else had to do that.” Santana scowled at him as she talked._

_“And Kurt really has been very helpful to us all. Like helping us find a place to dump the bodies.” Quinn smiled at him as his eyes, which were one of the only things he still could control, grew in shock. “Oh yes. Haven't you noticed how people seem to disappear around here? I mean, you probably didn't notice the first, Jesse. Remember him? I got some great screams out of him.” Her grin turned feral and Will could only stare in shock. What?_

_“Did I remember to thank you for that, babe?” Rachel looked at Quinn and gave her a quick peck on the lips._

_“Oh yes, you did. Very nicely too.” Quinn looked the other girl up and down unashamedly._

_Santana rolled her eyes at them. “Didn't you wonder where Wheels went? Well, he lost his balls, and is currently rotting away in the exact same place you will end up.”_

_“Oh, nicely done, I suspected that was you.” Quinn looked over to the dark haired girl with a complementary nod._

_“I always wondered who took out Karofsky, my money is Puck.” Rachel broke in like they were talking about the weather._

_“Yeah, and from what I could recognize when I dumped Wheels, Bland was there as well. Who do you think took him out, Kurt or Sebastian?”_

_“Maybe together? He did vanish after Kurt came in with some bruises, after all.”_

_“Hmm, true. By the way, when did you figure out poisons?”_

_“Oh, I didn't tell you this, did I? Kurt helped me out a little. Remember that heart attack that killed you father? Yeah, he had a little help with that.”_

_Quinn looked at her girlfriend with big eyes. “You did that for me? Oh my God, thank you!” They embraced, and after a few seconds, started making out._

_Santana rolled her eyes and looked away from them and over to Schuester again, just to catch him starting to choke. She elbowed Rachel. “Guys, it's happening.”_

_A little later, they looked down the row of men in the grave and grinned at each other._

 

 


	8. It's not quite over yet

                       

“There's another body.”

 

Bones looked at Booth with wide eyes, and Hodgins, who was video-chatting with her at the moment, looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

 

“The team that was transporting the bodies wanted to make sure that everything had been brought along, and found another body buried a layer beneath the rest of them. It's being brought in now.” As he spoke, a body bag was carried in behind him and put on the table.

 

“This case is just... what the hell, dude?” The scientist mumbled a few more swear words. “Just... call us if you want anything tested, bye”. He signed off before they could say anything, and Bones turned to the body bag, pulling the zipper down and starting yet another examination. After a couple of minutes, she looked up again.

 

“Well, preliminary examination suggests that this is a man in his late 30ies to early 40ies. He's about 5'8. He died of a broken neck.”

 

Booth just looked at the body on the table for a while before shaking himself off.

“Okay, let's find out who he is.

 

**

“Leon Puckerman.”

 

“Puckerman? Any relation?”

 

“His dad.”

 

“Fuck this fucking case.”

 

**

 

“Mrs. Puckerman, why didn't you file a missing person's report for your husband?”

 

The tired woman in front of him raised her eyebrows. “Why would I?”

 

“Because no one has seen him in ten years? Mrs. Puckerman, we found your husband's body in one of our investigations.”

 

She looked at him for a few long seconds. “Are you saying that Leon is dead?”

 

“Yes, ma’am, and you don't seem too concerned about that.”

 

She sighed and shook her head. “I didn't report him missing, because as far as we knew, he wasn't. He ran out on us when the kids were young. He's been back a couple of times, asking for money, but the last time I saw him was at least 13 years ago.”

 

**

“My dad is dead?” The shocked look on Noah Puckerman's face was extremely convincing. “Holy crap.”

 

“Yeah, he was one of the bodies we found in the mass grave. Do you know of anyone that would want to harm him?” Booth was getting sick of being careful to these people, so it was said with a slightly less refined edge than usually.

 

The younger man snorted. “Look, agent, my dad was an ass. He ran out on us, and I know he pissed off a fair deal of people. There are a number of people that would want to harm him. The last time I saw him was maybe 11 years ago, he wanted money, I didn't give him anything, and he went away. I wouldn't...” He took a deep breath again. “Let's just say that if I had wanted to kill him, I would have done it much sooner.”

 

He looked up at Booth for a few seconds before asking what was clearly on his mind. “Can I ask... how he died?”

 

Booth looked at him, trying to gauge why he was asking. In the end, he answered “his neck was broken. As far as we know, he didn't suffer.”

 

**

_Kurt looked on as the man left the familiar house. He had a banged up guitar and a backpack, and now a stash of money Kurt knew he had stolen from Noah's reserve._

 

_Without little thought, he followed the man as he drove off, the navigator's dark colors concealing him perfectly in the night sky. He had fiddled a bit with the engine before the man came out again, and now the car did exactly as expected; break down. They were in the middle of a deserted road out of Lima, and the car in front of him pulled over slightly to the side before it came to a stop. Kurt stopped behind him and neatly stepped out of his car as the other man clumsily jumped out of his, swearing as he did. He went to open the hood, and Kurt walked over to him as he did, calling out. “Problem?”_

 

_The man looked up with a grimace, but stopped what he was going to say when he saw Kurt. He squinted at him for a couple of seconds before recognizing him. “Hummel?”_

 

“ _That's me.” Kurt sighed a little. “Sorry about the car, but I kinda needed you to stop here.”_

 

_The man looked at him in confusion. “What?”_

 

“ _Oh, I tampered with your car. It's not going any anywhere. And neither are you.”_

 

“ _What do you want?” He seemed to steel his face._

 

“ _I want the money you stole from Noah. And for you to never come back.”_

 

_The man straightened his back again, and sneered at Kurt. “Or what?”_

 

“ _Or this.” Kurt had been moving closer slowly, the man not noticing in the dark, and within three seconds, Kurt had him in a headlock. With a quick snap that sounded extremely loud in the stillness, the body between his hands fell to the ground and Kurt looked down at him, shaking his head._

 

“ _Idiot.”_

 

_He dragged the man into the forest they had been driving by, and started digging a hole with the shovel he had stashed away in the navigator. As he covered the hole up again, he looked around with a considering face. “Huh. This is a nice place. I might have to use this again sometime.”_

 


	9. Let's finish this off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Many thanks to the lovely jwmelmoth, and as always, all mistakes are my own.  
> Disclaimer: Neither Glee nor Bones is mine, nor do I wish them to be

                                               

“Okay, let's review the whole case, start to finish.” Booth was standing in front of a whiteboard, Bones looking at him, the laptop on the table next to her on video call with the three others in the lab.

 

“First to die, Leon Puckerman. Deadbeat dad, basically just in the Puckerman's family life as a drain on their money. The daughter is too young, the mother too uninterested and has lived with him way too long to suddenly snap. Besides, if we should believe their word, her son saw his dad more recently than she did.

Noah Puckerman has the motive and the means, but we have no idea if he had the opportunity, as no one can say with certainty when Leon was murdered. If we presume that it happened the last time he was here, then Noah Puckerman has an alibi; he went to visit his grandmother at the home every Wednesday afternoon for years, we have several workers there that will testify to it.

Do we have anyone else that would have the motive for this?”

 

“Well” Hodgins took the word, a little carefully. “There is Hummel. He's Noah Puckerman's best friend; he could have taken out his father for him?”

 

“Yes, he could have. He is a skinny kid, but he could still have some serious muscle, so let's say he has both the means and the motive. He doesn’t have an alibi for the evening, so let's presume he could have done it. Anyone else?”

 

Bones shook her head, as did the others, and they continued on.

 

“Okay, the next one to die. We think Jessie St. James is next, though due to being frozen, we can't really know for sure. He was the next one to disappear. In general, he wasn’t a particularly nice person. He would step on anyone and anything to get what he wanted. Right before he vanished, he had done so to Rachel Berry-Fabray. She has the motive, and the means. She has an alibi, though, in the form of a “girls-weekend” after St. James had revealed what was going on, and four other people will testify to this, including Kurt Hummel's dad, Burt Hummel, whose home they stayed in. The same thing gives Hummel an alibi.

I would say that her wife, Quinn Berry-Fabray could have done this, but according to the other students at the school, at that time, the Berry-Fabrays really didn't get along all that well in school. The way the students tell it, they actually hated each other, and were fighting for the same boy.

 

 

“Next, we have David Karofsky. Bully, typical jock in a high school in Ohio, though he took it a step too far, sexually harassing and threatening a student with rape and murder. His head was bashed in, clearly in anger, which means this one might not actually have been planned.

Kurt Hummel is the one with the most obvious motive, but he had already moved schools to get away from Karofsky, so why would he suddenly decide to kill him, weeks after?

Noah Puckerman had the motive and the means, and I would gladly stick this to either or both of them, but they have alibis. Puckerman's football team had a match a few towns over, and both of them are caught several times on camera several times, Hummel in the stands. We have a teacher swearing up and down that Karofsky was in her last class at McKinley, meaning that neither Hummel nor Puckerman would have had the time to murder him.

He had been an ass to plenty others, however, so there are many people who could have taken him out in the end.

 

“Moving on to Blaine Anderson. He was all over a decent person, but had made a few very bad choices in his relationship. I haven't managed to get out of Hummel what happened, but I know something did. If we stay with this, Kurt Hummel had a motive; he had the means and also the opportunity. He has an alibi, but it's in the form of his fiancé.”

“Could the fiancé or Puckerman have done it?” Angela broke in.

 

“No, Smythe, the fiancé is covered by the same alibi, and Puckerman was working.

 

“On to Artie Abrams. Mostly an okay guy, he had his bad moments, and one of them might have killed him. Brittany Pierce is the one who most obviously might have wanted to kill him, but I'm not sure if she's actually all there, and she doesn't seem like the sadistic sort, as cutting off his genitals seems extreme. From talking to the students at McKinley, her closest friends were Santana Lopez and Kurt Hummel, both covered under the same alibi Pierce is.

 

“William Schuester was next. He was a man pretending to be the good guy, but was in all honesty pretty bad. He set up a kid to blackmail him with it, he lusted after a fair few of his female students and used the glee club to reach his own goals.

Anyone in glee club could have a motive, really, so I started with alibis. We can count out Pierce, Chang, Cohen-chang, Puckerman, Hudson and Hummel, they all have solid ones. The Berry-Fabreys and Lopez has each other as alibis, however, which is a little shakier.

 

“Lastly, Ted Sanders. He was a man who in all fairness should have been sent to jail for raping at least three underage girls. Completely out of order with the others, this man was not a part of the life of any of the students in the New Directions. Several people would want to kill him. Hunter Clarington is the most likely candidate. Once again, however, the alibi trips us up. Sanders was seen leaving the school alive and arrive at home, which was the last anyone saw of him. Clarington was visiting a friend that weekend, and said friend’s parents confirm this, as it was their son’s birthday and it was a tradition. The friend, Sebastian Smythe, is the closest connection we have to the New Directions gang, as he is the fiancé of Kurt Hummel.”

 

Booth took a break, taking a drink of water.

 

“Either we are dealing with a serial killer that completely changes his way of killing each time, someone who is all over the map, and manages to hide all the evidence that might take him down. They keep a watch and kill whoever they seem to find faults in. The red thread here is that all these people are 'bad' in some way or another.

We could be dealing with a group of people who have all killed at least one person, where no one is ratting the others out. One of them is probably the 'leader' so to say, and is the one that showed the others the place to bury, or at least helped them find it.

 

“I don't even want to know the probability of this happening, and though I personally feel the last is extremely unlikely, several of these people give me bad vibes. On paper, Hummel or Puckerman is the most likely to have killed all of them, but those are actually the two that freak me out the least, and their alibis are solid for several of the murders.

Hunter Clarington freaks me out the most, but he didn't even live here when most of these people were killed.”

 

He stopped talking, and a couple of minutes of silence fell as they all tried to make sense of it. Once again, Angela broke the silence.

 

“We're stuck, aren't we? We have done everything we can do with the evidence, and without any more murders, there won't be anything more coming in. Even if we figure out who did it, there is no way to prove it.”

 

She stopped talking for a few seconds. “We can't actually solve this one, can we?

**

 

_A few weeks earlier, the same day the mass grave was found, in an apartment rented under P.P._

 

“ _Guys, something's happened. They found the grave in Lima.” Hunter Clarington looked out over the room._

 

_In the chair at his left, Sebastian was sitting, Kurt sitting on the arm and leaning into him. On the couch next to them was Quinn and Rachel, newly married, Rachel playing with Quinn's blond hair as she leaned into the brunette, the two of them taking up the whole three-seater. Noah was leaning on his elbows on the back of the couch and Santana was standing next to him, arms crossed. When he told them the news he had just heard from Lima, the room filled with silent swears._

 

“ _Who found it? And who's gonna work it?” Kurt asked. Being the second-in-command, he was usually the one to ask. When they had all grouped together like this, they had all offered the lead to Kurt, but he wasn't interested. So he became the second while Hunter, natural leader that he was, took up the head._

 

“ _They found it when they started digging for a new foundation for something. They're sending in FBI.”_

 

_Kurt sighed and closed his eyes. They had clashed with the FBI before, though the agents hadn't known it was them of course. That didn't mean they were looking forward to having their teenage alibis and motives checked out by the agency. “Shit.”_

 

“ _Yeah. We need to lay low for a while. I told the Mantos that we would have to delay the job from them, and they're not in a hurry, so it worked for them. Cartini canceled on us, they will come back to us if they need it.”_

 

_Kurt spoke up again. “Guys, the important thing now is to not panic. We hid our tracks well, and they shouldn't be able to find anything. We will be questioned, of course, because of our connection to them, but just keep calm, act surprised and don't stress out.”_

 

 _Hunter nodded and looked around._ “ _Yes, that's very important. Don't freak out of they come to talk to you, go over your alibis again, but don't be too quick to offer them up. It's been ten years, most people have to check to see what they did back then._

 

“ _Until this calms down, we can't meet up again, so everyone go back to your day job and don't take on any solo jobs for a while.”_

 

_They all nodded before sneaking out of the apartment, going their separate ways for now. Hunter was the last one to leave, locking the door behind him. They had more kills between them than he could keep track of anymore; the bad guys would just have to live a little longer._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! Thank to everyone who has stayed with me through the craziness;) 
> 
> For those of you who want to read more, GOOD NEWS! I am making this a series! I have a couple ideas for some stories, but if there is anything in particular you would like, let me know either through my [ tumblr](http://bablefisk.tumblr.com/) or the comments below:)


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